


The Reason Why

by Belsmomaus



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Mental Illness, Minor Character Death, Violence, disturbing things, mention of rape, story telling, vile and inhuman acts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:26:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1576811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belsmomaus/pseuds/Belsmomaus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Everyone has a reason for his own behavior. You have a reason to hate him. And he has a reason to act like he does." - Bilbo Baggins to Thorin Oakenshield</p><p>While trying to find a way to free the dwarves from their cells in the Mirkwood Palace Bilbo overhears two elves talking about why Thranduil is the way he is now.<br/>He wished he'd never found out.<br/>Thorin, of course, is more difficult to reason with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Reason Why

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!  
> The inspiration for the most important event in this story came from a book from Markus Heitz. I actually had to put it aside to stomach everything. But I couldn't get the picture out of my mind that he'd painted with his words.  
> And after reading lots and lots of things about Thranduil, this stuff here was suddenly there and it wouldn't go away anymore, so I had to write it!  
> I hope you like it anyway!

**_ The Reason Why _ **

  

Bilbo didn’t dare to breath.

He pressed himself back against the wall, even though he knew that nobody was able to see him. But elves had really good ears, so he stayed as still as possible.

He’d tried to follow the ones who took his friends away to the dungeons, however these two guardsmen had unknowingly blocked off his way. And now he stood here in this small alcove in a hallway with two guards not far away.

Why did everything on this damn quest have to go wrong?

First trolls, then orcs, then stonegiants, then goblins and more orcs, then the hunger and thirst and hallucinations of Mirkwood. And to top it all they had to get caught again by yet another king.

An elven one this time, yet just barely any nicer.

_“Get them out of my sight! Take them to the dungeons. Oh, and place them apart from each other. And DON’T talk to them. I have time, Thorin Oakenshield. Time to wait until you want to talk. But do you, too?”_

At least he didn’t resort to torture like the goblins would have.

Bilbo had imagined all elves to be more like Elrond. He’d seemed so wise and open, in his own mysterious kind of way. Yet this elf here was hard and cold like ice. Nothing like the creatures he’d heard so much about in the stories his mother had told him.

Finally the guards left and he dashed along the hallway in the direction the dwarves had been lead to, hoping to close up to them. Otherwise he might never find them again if these dungeons were only half as disorientating as the goblin caves.

And how was he supposed to get them out anyway?

 

 “This could actually work,” Bilbo murmured to himself.

It had taken him a few days to locate all the dwarves and to check the main gate as possible escape route – which it definitely wasn’t. He had wandered this palace and familiarized with the hallways and tunnels.

And yesterday he’d overheard some guards talking about an upcoming feast and that they still needed to send the empty barrels down to Laketown. He’d followed them around a while until he’d found this room in one of the lower levels: a storing place for wine barrels.

While looking around the last hour he’d formed an idea in his head how to get his friends not just out of their cells but also out of this place. He was just on his way to leave the room when he heard voices. They got louder and soon he was hiding behind a barrel – one could never be too cautious, even when wearing an invisibility ring. Through the space between barrels he could see the ones talking.

It were two elves, one light blond in long flowing robes, the other one - obviously a guardsman judging by his clothes – had dark brown hair and looked pretty young, even for an elf. It wasn’t so much his face that betrayed his youth, but his eyes. And he was the one talking at the moment.

“I just don’t get it, Galion. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to criticize the king, I just want to understand.”

The blond one sighed and started looking between some small barrels for something, while the other used his silence to go on.

“Yes, they are dwarves and I know we can’t be sure about their reason for crossing our territory. But they were clearly exhausted with hunger and thirst and sick with spider poison. You just had to look at them. Why wouldn’t he show them at least a little bit compassion and let the healer have a look at them? Why is he granting them only the bare necessities of food? It sounds cruel to me. And unwise.”

“Unwise?” It was the first time the elf named Galion said something. He obviously had found what he’d been looking for – a small barrel, most likely filled with wine. One of his eyebrows was raised and there was something in his features…

Bilbo couldn’t put his finger on it.

Doubtful of his rash words the young elf stuttered a moment, before finding his speech again.

“Won’t a behavior like this fuel the animosities between their people and ours?”

Galion sighed again. “Most likely, yes.”

“But why then? I don’t understand.”

The blond one placed the barrel on a nearby table and put his folded hands upon it.

“You are young, Innor. Once, a long time ago, I would have thought like you about such a demeanor. But back then our king would have had no reason to act as he did now.”

Innor seemed intrigued by these words. “What happened? Please, Galion, tell me.”

Galion raised one of his hands and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily, before finally giving in.

“Alright, I will. But know this, young friend, it is a story of depravity. You will find the answers to your questions there together with things you never wanted to know about.”

The young elf looked a bit deterred yet way too curious. Just like Bilbo. He’d asked himself the same questions and the prospect of answers was compelling, even after such a warning.

Innor sat down on a stool.

“I know you’re too young to have had the fortune meeting her, but have you ever heard stories about our former queen?”

Soon enough Bilbo found himself totally engrossed by the story. Half an hour later he knelt on the floor, his hands over his mouth, tears in his eyes, desperately wishing for the two shaken elves to leave, so he could vomit without anyone listening.

 

 

 

„STOP IT!“

His voice rang in the crowded room.

The noise around him died away abruptly. No more clanking of cutlery or dishes, no more clashing of jars, no more talking, no more laughing, but most importantly no more arguing from Thorin, Dwalin and some other dwarfs in the immediate vicinity.

All eyes were turned on him. Confused and surprised ones from Bofur and Bombur and Ori, who were just laughing at some story Bofur’d told. Acknowledging ones from Nori, who’d never thought that the Hobbit had it in him. Stunned ones from Dwalin and Gloin and Dori, who couldn’t believe the displayed irreverence. And angry ones. Really really furious ones from Thorin, the one Bilbo had dared to interrupt so ferociously.

He disliked being the center of attention, even – or especially – after all this time with the dwarves. But he just couldn’t take it anymore. He’d endured Thorin’s ranting and cursing from the dungeons of the Mirkwood Palace up until now, eating dinner in a house in Laketown that they were given by the towns master for their stay.

“It’s enough, Thorin. I know you hate the Elvenking but I really think you do wrong by him and I just can’t bear your diatribe anymore.”

If possible the silence grew even quieter, but Bilbo intended to stand his ground.

Thorin’s nostrils flared and his gaze was colder than ice. Dwalin fumed and only the lack of reaction from his king so far restrained Gloin from venting his anger.

“My diatribe. My DIATRIBE??!!” The kings voice changed from dangerously calm to infuriated screaming in an instant, just to be turned down to a barely controlled level.

“This… filth… was there when Erebor fell. He looked upon us and turned away. He refused to help us, instead he watched our home burn, our people suffer. And you were there in Mirkwood, you witnessed his coldhearted demeanor, his unwillingness to help us with anything. And you dare to think I do him wrong?”

Although his knees were weak and every instinct told him to run and hide he pushed his chest out and stood proud.

“Yes, I do.”

The dwarves around him gasped and he hurried to speak before they gained momentum in their anger. He fixed his gaze on Thorin.

“I don’t say that what he did was right. It clearly wasn’t. But did it ever… _ever_ … occur to you that there might be a reason for his behavior?”

Thorin snorted, his hands turned to fists at his sides. “As if that coldblooded pointy eared bastard needs a reason.”

Bilbo sighed, exasperatedly. “Of course he does. Everyone has a reason for his own behavior. You have a reason to hate him. And he has a reason to act like he does.”

“Yeah, as if you’d know…” Thorin laughed a humorless laugh, ready to turn his attention away from the Hobbit to not totally ruin his mood any further – or do something he might regret the next day.

Bilbo gulped. “Actually, I do.”

And again he was at the center of attention.

“At least I know part of it. And believe me, you have no idea!”

Thorin’s eyebrow shot up. “Oh, really? Wanna care to enlighten me? Was his daddy mean to him? Or doesn’t he get laid often enough?”

Before he could even think about his actions a loud ‘smack’ filled the room, followed by more gasps. With big eyes Bilbo stared at Thorin’s face, still turned to the side from his slap.

The kings jaw muscles trembled from suppressed fury. His cheeks turned red and if his gaze could kill, Bilbo would have died at least three deaths. The rumble of his voice was so deep, the hobbit had to strain to understand it, but the threatening tone was unmistakable.

“You may have saved my life, hobbit, but if you dare anything like that again, I’ll throw you into the lake. Preferable after making you one head shorter.”

Bilbo shivered in fear. However, the picture that the story of that elf painted stuck in his head. And he just couldn’t…

“I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry for what I am about to do. I know pretty well that it isn’t my story, my secret, to tell, but… if neither dwarves nor elves start talking to each other, maybe someone else has to tell their stories, so the other side gets a chance to understand.”

Balin frowned. “How would you come to such knowledge?”

Others looked also curious, well, those few who weren’t still angry at him for slapping their king. After telling him off.

The hobbit had to lower his eyes. He really felt bad about this.

“I overheard one of the guards. A young guardsman couldn’t understand the kings harsh behavior, he pointed out that it was obvious you were half starved, thirsty and sick with poison. That you needed help. The older one told him this story to make him understand.”

“Okay, now I’m curious!” noted Bofur a bit sheepish.

“Me too,” admitted Ori almost whispering.

“Aye laddie. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time to listen…” Balin drifted off, as if he just couldn’t bring himself to actually say the words ‘to the elves’.

Dwalin and Gloin just snorted, but grew quiet when their leader crossed his arms before his chest and growled: “Very well, Master Hobbit, tell us a _story_ about our _lovely_ king _Thranduil_.” He spit out some of the words as if they were acid on his tongue.

 

 Bilbo collected himself and sat back on his seat. The others gathered around him, more or less grudgingly ready to listen. That’s when it hit the hobbit and his hand landed instinctively on his stomach.

“I hope you’re done eating…”

Cries of protest rang through the room.

“Well, maybe we should do this later, then.”

But Thorin’s eyes bored into him and hold him in place. “Oh no, you stretch my patience – and my nerves – to its limits as it is. So, begin this tale of yours.”

Bilbo took a deep breath – full of delicious smells. He’d regret this.

“Okay, ehm, the story this guard told happened long ago. At least a couple of hundred years, if I got that right, maybe even much more. It happened back then when the woodland realm still had a queen.”

Dwalin rolled his eyes. “So the treeshagger hasn’t gotten laid in hundreds of years. Not surprising, but that really is no reason for me!”

Bilbo just gave him a disappointed look and otherwise ignored him.

“Thranduil’s queen had been the most beautiful creature the elves had ever seen. And not just that, she had a warm and caring heart and an open ear for everyone. Her subjects loved her. And so did the king. She matched his cautious and conservative personality with her open mind and heart.

Then came the day, the guards found a human woman stumbling around in their territory. She was dirty and her clothes torn, her body injured and her mind frightened and exhausted. Not far away they found a group of orcs and hunted them down. The woman was unconscious when they brought her before their regents, knowing nothing about her but assuming that there’d be a connection between her and the orcs.

Thranduil ordered them to bring her to the healers.”

“Ah, that’s the trick. If you’re a _human_ and  _female_ you get the healers. If you’re a _dwarf_ and  _male_ you get the dungeons,” murmured Dwalin scowling.

His brother shushed him with a stare and an elbow.

“It’s not that easy, Master Dwarf. Well, they got her to the healers and his wife stayed with her out of compassion. The healers found many injuries, new ones and old ones. Wounds from imprisonment and torture and worse.”

And another dwarf interrupted his narration, this time it was Kili, whispering questioningly to his brother, but still, everybody could hear him in the eerily silent room.

“Worse?”

Some of the other dwarves closed their eyes, wincing at this question.

Even gazing into the young dwarf’s uncomprehending eyes Bilbo couldn’t overcome himself to actually say the word. It was Nori in the end, who leaned close and whispered a few words together with some gestures, until Kili’s eyes widened and his cheeks turned a bit red.

Bilbo cleared his throat and continued.

“When the woman regained consciousness she was frightened and fearful, but the queen’s empathy and friendliness made her loose her fear bit by bit. It took months till her injuries were fully healed and it took even much more time till the invisible wounds started mending.

The elves learnt that this woman was taken by the orcs at a raid. Since then they had used her as a plaything in many ways. For almost seven months. That’s when she finally managed to flee. Shortly before the guards found her.”

Gasps broke the silence at this information, and the wincing faces had turned a shade paler. Imagining being a prisoner to some orcs, a plaything for them, for seven months, made even Thorin himself shudder.

“She was broken. Inside and outside. And queen and king took pity in her. She was allowed to stay in the palace to heal, physically and mentally. The queen became her guide, her teacher and her friend. She also befriended the prince and others. Even the king liked her, although he kept his distance, busy with state affairs and the knowledge that his wife was the better companion for a healing woman than he himself.

But then things began to change. Slowly. Barely perceptible. An uneasy feeling overcame the king when watching this human woman. She seemed well enough; however she showed no interest in getting home to her own kin. Quite the opposite. She started wearing her hair in elvish fashion, tried to imitate their elegant movements and their way of speaking. She even learnt Sindarin from his wife and got lessons in self defense and archery from his son. Sometimes, her behavior made him wonder, if she even knew anymore that she wasn’t an elf.

Obviously she knew too well. One day she was found in her rooms, lying on the floor in her own blood, a knife next to her. She had cut away part of her ears to make them look pointy like the ears of an elf.”

“What?” Someone exclaimed unbelievingly.

“Urgh!” Came the retching sounds from others.

Bilbo waited for the surprise and the disgust to fade until he started speaking again.

“Thranduil grew worried, as did his wife, but for slightly different reasons. They demanded answers from their healers. They thought that the time with the orcs maybe made her feel dirty and ugly inside, so that she tried to take that stain away by adjusting her outside, to not feel stained anymore.”

Some skeptically raised eyebrows greeted the hobbit.

“They tried to make her see her own beauty, to show her that she’s special, especially the queen. The healers thought that they should give her time and space and the possibility to get a feeling for herself and her own worth again. So when she started to show an interest in the king they thought it a good sign, thought she’d felt worthy enough for the attention of a regent.

They told him to, well, not exactly encourage her, but to not discourage her either. Even his wife agreed. And they let her have her little crush on the king.

Thranduil endured it for his wife, who mostly laughed silently with her hands in front of her mouth.”

This time even Dwalin and Thorin smirked, although a malicious one. Snickering and some comments of ‘I’d like to see that’ filled the room.

“Then the king had to leave to investigate rumors about an orc stronghold somewhere in the southwest of Mirkwood. And he couldn’t have that foul creatures in his forest.

The evening before he and his son departed the mortal came to him, only this time she kissed him. Thranduil couldn’t see how this should help her heal and he thought it had gone far enough. He refused her gently, assuring her of his friendship, but no more than that.

‘But I love you’ she cried.

Then he didn’t see her again the next day when he departed. He told his wife about everything and instructed her to be careful with her and to talk to the healers again.

He wiped out the orcs, all the while having a bad feeling, a nagging at the back of his mind that something was wrong.

In the end they turned home again, the king sending a rider ahead to announce their arrival for the following morning. He couldn’t wait to see his wife again. She always greeted him at the palace doors.

But the next day she wasn’t waiting for him.”

“Oh no.” Ori looked anxious, totally immersed in the story. And even other dwarves looked a bit alarmed. They had no idea. No idea. And Bilbo continued on, already goose bumps all over his back and neck.

“And the nagging turned into a clawing.

The king hurried to their quarter, opening the door to their lounging area, breathing a little bit easier when he spotted his wife standing in a dressing gown at an open window, her back to him.

But still, something didn’t feel right. Her hairdo seemed sloppier than usual and she looked smaller somehow. He called her name, and she turned.”

This time it was Bilbo who needed a small break to breathe deeply to stop his voice from shaking too much.

“It was his wife in front of him. And at the same time it wasn’t. Familiar long golden hair was falling around her face, but it looked slightly disheveled. It was wearing her wide, silver dressing gown, tied in the front. Fine red spots blossomed on the light fabric around the high collar.

That thing looked at him with wrong eyes, but with the face of his wife. Or the distorted face of his wife. Blood had been leaking in fine rivulets out of the corner of her mouth and her nose, now dried to dark ornaments on this horrible face.

And then it spoke, with the wrong voice – the oh so very wrong voice – contorting her features to a grotesque mask.

‘Can you love me now?’”

Bilbo’s voice broke. He could feel his stomach churning again, protesting against such cruelty. Some of the dwarves looked expectant to him, but on other faces he could see the dawning of understanding. It wasn’t difficult to miss. The widening of the eyes, the consternation and horror in their gazes, the considerable paling of faces and the first sounds of suppressed retching.

“But what…?”

“How?”

Mere whispers. Nobody dared disturb the silence after something like that.

With difficulty Bilbo calmed his screaming nerves and his protesting insides, forced the shaking out of his voice as best as he could.

“Thranduil’s brain refused to understand, refused to believe. But it was real, so horribly horribly real.

In the night the mortal woman had killed the queen in her sleep. She had skinned her face and head, down to her neck, and slipped it on like some mixture between wig and mask. She’d actually sewn the skin shut at the sides of her neck under the ears where the long tresses covered it.”

This time the retching sound wasn’t suppressed anymore. Gloin had pushed his brother aside, grabbed an empty bowl and spilled the contents of his stomach into it, leaning against the wall for support. Although Gloin had been one of the loudest participants in the arguing at the beginning and one of the most skeptical regarding this story he was also married.

Even Bombur pushed everything just resembling food as far away from him as possible, keeping one hand firmly over his mouth. Not surprising for the second married dwarf.

Fili and Kili were pale, pressed together for comfort.

Dori tried to get a hold of his stomach to not follow Gloin’s example while actual tears travelled down Ori’s cheeks. Nori had placed himself between them, giving support to his brothers. He’d seen lots of brutal and nasty things in his life, living mostly on the wrong side of the law, sharing his existence with the not so noble folk around. But even he had never seen nor heard of such a revolting and atrocious act.

Bifur had started mumbling incoherently in ancient Khuzdul, obviously troubled. Bofur’s hand lay on his arm to keep him calm, but more than that the always optimistic and cheerful dwarf couldn’t give at the moment. His face was white as a sheet. He’d never been confronted with something so vile.

Balin and Oin were quiet, avoiding the others gazes in order to collect themselves.

Dwalin sank down into his seat, eyes wide and staring, the disbelief and disgust obvious in his face. He’d never thought this story would take such a turn.

And Thorin?

Thorin was looking at Bilbo, all coldness and anger gone from his eyes. His face pale behind his dark beard and his gaze thoughtful, taken totally by surprise by this tale.

Bilbo could see the conflicting emotions play across his features. He’d never seen the stoic dwarven king this open, not even on the Carrock. He was torn between his hatred for elves, his revulsion towards such an act of perversion and actual sympathy for the Elvenking.

“What did he do?”

It was Thorin. His voice was soft, the question sincere.

Bilbo blinked, coughed once or twice to get his voice back.

“He… he wanted to kill her. Wanted to make her pay. But horribly distorted or not, she was wearing his wife’s face, was looking at him with the face of the one he had cherished above all else. So he played along for the moment, indulged her as best as possible to convince her to drop the mask. It wasn’t easy but finally she believed him and opened the seams at the side to slip her head out. And she carelessly let the skin fall to the floor.

He killed her with his bare hands. Slowly after all I’ve heard. Then he carefully lifted the face of his wife into his arms, fixed the knots in her hair and straightened it out. And followed the drops of blood on the floor to their bedroom, where he found her body. She lay on their marriage bed, the dagger still in her chest and her head nothing but row flesh amidst a sea of blood.”

Retching again and even more white faces.

“The guard said the king wrapped her head back up in her skin as best as he could. He wasn’t there on her burial; he was fighting for his life. Losing a loved one can mean death for an elf, can make them fade into the realm beyond. And losing his wife under such circumstances… it hit the king pretty hard. And his son. But somehow they didn’t die, something pulled them back, the guard didn’t know what. Maybe the love between father and son, maybe the responsibility for their people. He wasn’t sure on that. Only that neither Thranduil nor his son have ever been the same since then.”

Bilbo turned to Thorin and Dwalin and all the other dwarves, especially the ones who were ranting about the Mirkwood king earlier.

“You wonder why he doesn’t help outsiders? You wonder why he’s harsh to trespassers who were found in the woods? You wonder why he distrusts anything and anybody?”

Bilbo stood up from his stool, feeling all eyes following him.

“It’s because he did all these things once and it cost him the love of his life in the most gruesome and vile way possible. Maybe you understand now why I said that you do wrong by him. Maybe not. But I really hope you do!”

And with these final words he left the dwarves to themselves and headed for his bedroom in desperate need for being alone.

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Markus Heitz for the inspiration. And thanks to J.R.R. Tolkien and Peter Jackson for these wonderful characters!  
> And thanks to you for reading till the end!  
> If you liked it, feel free to leave a comment :-)


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